


comfort from the storm

by authoressjean



Series: the changed future [12]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 09:39:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoressjean/pseuds/authoressjean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 'don't make me hear'.</p>
<p>The sentencing is done, the guilty parties done away with. But Legolas still feels the judgment of self-guilt, and Kili still feels the rage of the helpless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	comfort from the storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Follicks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Follicks/gifts).



> So this is one fic of two dedicated to the AMAZING Follicks who's been recording 'to change' into a podfic. AND IT IS AMAZING. She does the best voices guys. YOU NEED TO GO LISTEN. She will give you FEELS.
> 
> GO LISTEN:
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/872057/chapters/1675196
> 
> She's also done 'the dark and lonely woods' because she loves Kili and Legolas and couldn't resist. So I wrote this for her. And then I felt bad about all the angst so I've written another fic that I'll post in a bit.

One would have thought that Legolas would have felt more rested. Dekir and Rutar had been sentenced by Bilbo and escorted out of Erebor, never to return; the assassin had been caught and moved to the execution cells; Bilbo was well and alive, as were Dernwyn, Tauriel, and little Holdred. Kili, too, was alive. These were all reasons to rejoice, if not to settle back and take a deep breath. 

Yet Legolas could not rest. His skin felt as if it were on fire, and his nerves were unsettled. Though he knew it to be untrue, he still thought that every eye in the mountain was fixed on him in judgment. He was an elf in a mountain of dwarves, after all: it was nearly impossible to not think of such things. But he had been there for three years now, and they had accepted him as one of their own, so it was not his race that left them staring, watching, judging. They probably were doing no such thing, and Legolas was being foolish. It was just himself feeling that way. 

Feeling the _guilt_ weighing on him. 

He stopped where he was walking down the hall and leaned against a nearby pillar, forcing his breaths to even out. He felt completely lost, sick and wretched and fearful, so fearful, of nothing and everything all at the same time. 

He should have stopped it. He should have ignored Kili and gone out to Bilbo. Even with Bilbo alive and thanking him – _thanking him_ – the fact held no comfort. He should have done it. 

It had been his arrow, after all. 

Legolas shuddered. He remembered it clearly, the day he had given it to Kili. He had watched the joy in his husband’s eyes as he had taken their token. He remembered the reverence with which Kili had cradled the arrow, and how it was always in his quiver, but rarely to be used. It had been a treasure, their treasure. And it had been his arrow that had struck Bilbo down. 

He felt his gut swirling within him, and never had he felt this way before. He had felt anger, deep anger, righteous anger many times. He had felt sympathy and kindness, his heart breaking for those whom he knew and those he did not. He had felt joy, such joy, and usually his brightest memories involved his husband, his light and hope, his Kili. He had known fear, too. He could recall the fear he had felt for Kili many times, too. 

But now, now he felt such guilt and sickness that he felt lost, as if he would spin like a child’s toy if he were but to let go of the pillar. He knew it was ridiculous: he would stand as tall as he always did. Yet the feeling remained. All because… 

“Legolas? Are ye all right?” 

Never before had he been so grateful to see his friend before. “In time,” Legolas promised Gimli, who looked to him now with open concern. “But…not now.” 

“I saw Kili not a moment ago-“ 

“No, I just…need to be here for a moment. I’ll be well.” Leaving the pillar was not an option, and the thought of Kili finding him like this left his gut lurching. 

Gimli pursed his lips but said nothing. After a moment, he moved in front of Legolas and leaned against the wall by the pillar in such a way that he faced Legolas. “Should lean against a stone wall – that’ll put ye to rights. Nothin’ like stone! Well, not for an elf, perhaps. Can you make a wall out of leaves?” 

In spite of his fear and guilt, Legolas found a small smile curling at his lips. “Typically, no, but there are trees to lean upon in the forest.” 

Gimli nodded sagely, and Legolas’s lips turned up even further. “Do ye think you could make it to the forest? Would that help?” 

Legolas began to reply, then paused, truly letting the thought sink in. Yes, that was _exactly_ what would help. “I think it would, Gimli. Will you tell the others for me?” 

“Aye, but wait for me at the gate, I’ll not be long in doin’ so.” 

Legolas blinked. “Gimli, you do not-“ 

“If you think I’m about to let ye disappear into a dark forest, well, I’ll have to disappoint ye. Kili and Tauriel’d have my head, for starters.” Gimli paused. “And it’s not what friends do,” he added after a moment, his voice not as boisterous as it usually was. “’Specially when their friend’s hurtin’.” 

The knot in his insides twisted further, enough that it forced a small gasp of air from his lungs. “I…” 

Gimli gave him a look. Legolas swallowed. “Thank you,” he said instead. 

The dwarf gave a brisk nod. “I’ll meet ye at the gate with the horses. Ye’ll have to let me ride with ye: my pony won’t keep up.” 

Legolas was certain Gimli would’ve run beside Legolas’s horse if it meant keeping up with him. “I’ll leave room for you,” he said. Perhaps he did need fresh air, a cool breeze, the whisper of trees to soothe him. He’d breathed in the outside just yesterday, the window in their chambers wide open. Yet he had still hurt and felt so bewildered and hadn’t understood why. 

He knew why. But there was nothing he could do about it. Though he had not put the arrow to the string, though he had not loosed it from his bow, it had nearly killed Bilbo all the same. It was tainted now. 

And he had yet to see it in Kili’s quiver since that fateful day. _That_ was perhaps the worst part of it all. 

He pushed himself from the pillar and forced himself to head for the gates, ignoring those around him. He wondered, if he turned his head, if he would find dwarves staring at him in disgust, whispering about the elf whose arrow had nearly killed the king’s husband. 

He needed the forest. 

 

 

One would have thought that Kili would have felt more calm. He had his nephew to play with, a kingdom at peace to live in, two uncles who were, thank Mahal, alive and well, and a husband whom he adored with every fiber of his being. But no, calm was not exactly a word he could associate himself with at the moment. 

Not when he felt so _furious_. 

“Are you going to breathe any time soon? Or are you going to glare at the wall all day? …Again?” 

Kili refused to snarl at Fili. It wasn’t his brother’s fault he felt as if ants were crawling beneath his skin. No, he wouldn’t snap at him. He wouldn’t. 

“I think watching Holdred drool is more fun than watching you.” 

Except when he said things like that. “Then go watch your son,” Kili snapped, refusing to remove his gaze from the wall. The heat from the forge beside them only helped encourage his foul mood and fury. “I don’t need company.” 

“Yes you do,” Fili retorted. “Have you listened to yourself lately? Seen yourself? You’re like a bear, Kili. You’re angry and you snap at every little thing and that’s _when_ you talk!” 

Kili’s brow furrowed even more until it almost hurt to stare. Fili huffed but kept going. “None of us wanted to leave you alone. I don’t know that I’ve seen you this angry before.” 

“What, you’re following me around so I don’t accidentally _shoot_ someone?” Kili bit out, and he wished the area outside the forge had furniture to break. Something, _anything_ , to remove the anger under his skin. 

Or to remove the fear that was fueling his rage. 

Fili sighed. “You know that’s not why I’m here. You _know_ that. And this is what I’m talking about! What’s going on with you?” 

Besides the fact that he’d almost seen his uncle die, had carried Bilbo like a dead weight? Besides seeing his other uncle’s face as if his whole world had perished, when he’d brought Bilbo to him? Besides nearly losing them both that day? 

Besides his husband barely saying a word, looking so _wretched_ and Kili not knowing what to do about it? 

“Kee?” 

He felt his shoulders hunch up to hide himself, his anger falling away for the first time in what felt like ages but had truly only been a few days. His muscles ached suddenly at the loss of tension, and he wrapped his arms miserably around himself. He hated feeling this way, but he felt trapped in a continuous cycle, unable to break out of the anger and the fear. 

Fili moved to stand in front of him, fingers moving dark hair away from Kili’s face just as he had a million times before. “Kee, what’s wrong?” he asked. 

Kili took a shuddering breath. “I want to stop failing.” 

It hadn’t been the answer his brother had been expecting, if the surprise on Fili’s face was anything to go by. It immediately turned into understanding, too much understanding, and Kili felt his cheeks burn with humiliation. “Kee-“ 

“I should’ve moved faster, I could’ve, I could’ve saved Uncle.” 

“He’s not _dead_ , Kili. You did save him.” 

“You didn’t see Thorin, the look on his face when I brought Bilbo to him. And I could’ve, should’ve, I could’ve…” He trailed off, biting his lip. “And Legolas looks so _lost_ and he’s never looked lost, and there’s nothing I can do.” 

Fili gently tugged him forward until Kili’s forehead leaned against his. “Bilbo and Thorin are fine,” Fili repeated quietly. “Your quick thinking, and I can’t believe I’m saying that, is what saved them both.” The small joke did nothing to lift Kili’s mood, and Fili sighed. “This wasn’t your fault. None of it was. Yours or Legolas’s, and I think my elf-brother could stand to hear that a few more times. Neither of you have been right since the sentencing.” 

And there’d been nothing Kili could do to fix that, no words of comfort he could offer Legolas when all he’d felt was the same gut-twisting guilt and fear. Anger had been easier. He’d hidden himself from the others, not wanting them to have to face his helpless fury, and had only returned to fall into bed and cling to his husband every night, exhaustion pulling him into uneasy rest. 

“What _are_ you doing down here, anyway?” 

It would’ve been cause enough to smile, if he’d had enough energy to do it. “Having a new arrow tip made,” Kili said. “For Legolas’s arrow.” It’d taken awhile for the craftsman to duplicate the arrow tip and even more to engrave it with their names. Never again would the arrow be a weapon against them. Not with both of their names on it. He hoped to give it to Legolas that evening. He hoped it would put back a spark of life in his husband’s eyes. 

Because facing Legolas, after Kili had failed to stop the attack and had left the arrow behind where it’d been picked up by the assassin, was more than he could stomach. 

As if his words had been the final touch, a dwarf from the forge came out. “I’ve reattached it,” he said pleasantly, handing the arrow over with a bow. “Does it suit you, m’liege?” 

The arrow itself was still in excellent condition, and the tip shone like a gem. In Khuzdul and Sindarin were their names, etched in such small letters and runes that they fit along the edges of the arrow tip. Kili ran his finger over them and felt them beneath his skin. “It does,” he said, and the first tendrils of hope filled his chest. Maybe, _maybe_ , this would be enough to get them back on course. “I owe you all of my gratitude. Thank you so much.” 

The dwarf blushed and gave a formal bow to them both, then returned to his forge. “Are you all right?” Fili asked quietly. 

Kili looked down at the arrow. “I hope so,” he said softly. Mahal but he hoped so. 

“Excuse me, my liege?” 

Both Kili and Fili turned at the dwarf to their right. One of the guards under Dwalin, Kili thought, but any other thoughts faded into nothing when the dwarf continued, “My liege, your husband has left the mountain with Gimli, son of Gloin. They make for the woods. Tauriel awaits you at the gates.” 

Kili felt all the blood drain from his face. It’d only been three days since the sentencing, five days since everything had gone wrong, since Kili’d messed it all up- 

“You’ll stop that now,” Fili said sharply, tugging on Kili’s hair to catch his attention. The guard was gone. “I know that look on your face. Where would an elf go if distraught?” 

“He shouldn’t _be_ distraught,” Kili argued, and fear choked his voice. “I should’ve said something-“ 

“Someone who’s sick shouldn’t tend to someone else who’s ill,” Fili pointed out, and he looked and sounded so much like Uncle that for half a moment, Kili was certain Thorin had joined them. Then the image was gone, and it was just Fee in front of him, tweaking his nose. Kili batted his hand away and rubbed at his nose tip with a glare. “You couldn’t have helped him, Kee. But now I think you can. Go on: I’ll tell Uncle where you’ve both gone.” 

Through the sickness in his gut, through the anger that was fast fading into fear and the rush of _find Legolas find him now_ , there was still a surge of love for the one friend Kili had always been able to rely on. He gave his brother a quick embrace and Fili held him tightly. Then they were hurrying through the corridors, Fili up to Thorin, Kili straight to the gates. Thorin would understand. He’d taken the day after the sentencing to himself, and no one had seen either him or Bilbo all day. They’d healed. 

Kili just had to find Legolas so they could do the same. 

Tauriel was indeed waiting for him, already astride her horse. Kili’s horse stood beside hers. “Do you need anything before you go?” the stable dwarf asked. 

“My husband,” Kili said, gritting his teeth. Not a moment later, they were both gone, down the plains and heading for Mirkwood. 

 

 

The woods were quiet, here, so close to the remnants of the Elven city. Legolas had thought about entering, had thought perhaps to wander the paths he had grown up walking, but there was a memory of pain and loss there, and neither were things Legolas needed now. He needed peace, sanctuary.

So he had drawn his horse further to the south, taking a hidden path into the forest. He and Gimli had ridden for awhile before the brush had become too much for the horse. Only then had he dismounted, helping Gimli down. "Nice place to relax, to shine a blade," Gimli said. "Maybe add a bit of an edge to it. Y'don't mind, do ye?"

The option to sit with companionship or in solitude was understood plainly. Legolas smiled warmly. “I do not, no. I will only be a little further in myself.” 

Gimli was already seating himself on a thick root near the horse. “Go on,” Gimli nodded, and Legolas turned and left. 

The forests were not nearly as dark as they had been, some years before. It seemed only yesterday that he and Kili, Tauriel and Gimli, had passed through the forest, striking spiders and the occasional orc down. Only a few hours ago, it felt, had he taken Kili’s hand in his and wed him in the sunlight. Presented him with a token. 

Legolas felt himself wandering through the trees without any real thought to it, so lost was he to the troubles of his mind. Time passed differently now, living with beings of a shorter lifespan than he. Each day that had passed as a mere moment before was now fully lived from sun up to sun down, and every minute counted. He found himself remembering more things as they happened, etching themselves into his memory forever. That included tragedies too, however. Including the tragedy with his arrow. 

He barely realized he had found his grove until he stepped into it. There was little to no sun now: the gray skies seemed to promise a rain later, perhaps. The breeze gave no telling of it, but the brook ahead babbled about the water it would soon carry. The brook had never been able to keep a secret. He moved to sit beside it on a moss covered rock. Only when he had done so did he let out a deep sigh from his very soul. 

He let the world surround him. He could see cloudy skies above him through the gap between the trees, watch the gentle swaying of branches and leaves, hear the brook that whispered and giggled beside him, feel the warmth of the moss beneath him. He laid himself back across the long stone and closed his eyes. His fingers caressed the grass that he could just reach without moving. It was familiar, comforting. It felt like home. 

And he only let himself confess to not feeling any more at peace after the breeze blew through, finally confirming the oncoming storm. 

He tightened his already shut eyes, trying to focus on the world around him. But though the trees, the brook, the breeze and sky were his friends, none could offer him solace from the guilt that twisted his insides. He almost felt a panic, so anxious was he to just be _done_ with this terrible feeling inside of him, and the panic stemmed from the possible realization that he would never be free of it. He would always feel this way, forever. 

Though his mind had heard the steps, they had not truly registered to him as another being until tentative fingers cupped the side of his face. His anxiety eased, and the next breath he let out seemed to take the poisonous feelings out with it. The hand was warm, even more so when hesitance was lost and it pressed more firmly against his skin. Even before he felt the callouses, even before the thumb brushed over his ear in a familiar way, he knew exactly who it was. He knew exactly who had come to him. 

When he opened his eyes, Kili was there before him, kneeling in the grass beside the stone. “Hello,” Kili whispered. 

“Hello,” Legolas whispered back. For a long moment after that, neither spoke. 

“You left,” Kili finally said, and there was no condemnation or even hurt. There was simply pain that he seemed desperate to keep from coming out, and Legolas felt a touch of guilt at it. Kili was holding it back to keep Legolas from guessing its source, but Legolas knew. 

“I had to. I couldn’t…bear to face you, as lost as I was.”

"You don't have to feel that way," Kili insisted, words flying over one another. "I'm lost, too, and I have been for days, and it's my fault. I'm so sorry."

“It was not your fault,” Legolas said firmly, sitting up at last. Kili looked as miserable as Legolas had felt earlier, but when the elf raised his hand to brush hair back from his husband’s face, a measure of that misery was lost. It was good to see. “We have both been in despair. I simply couldn’t…stay. In the halls.” Where his arrow had nearly taken Bilbo’s life. 

“I know, and I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t want to stay, either. But you will…come back, won’t you? I promise I won’t fail you this time, I’ll be there-“ 

“I never intended to stay away for more than a few hours. Kili,” Legolas said, and Kili fell silent but continued to remain unsettled, fingers twitching anxiously by his sides. Legolas frowned. “Kili, what are you talking about?” 

“I should’ve stopped it,” Kili said, and as the words began to pour out, there was no stopping them. “I should’ve run out there, I should’ve known better words to say, I should’ve taken _your arrow with me_. And I made a mess of it all, and then you left.” 

Oh how he wished that these past few days they had _spoken_ with one another. Despite the surge of guilt that threatened to flood him when he realized Kili had felt abandoned, with it came an overpowering sense of hope. “I did not leave because of you,” Legolas said. “And I never will. I left because I could not bear to be there in the place where _I_ failed. Where my arrow was used to slay Bilbo. That was also not your fault,” he said quickly to override Kili’s protest. “You have left arrows behind before in safety. It was a mishap, Kili. You did everything that you could have. We both did.” 

Hindsight was worth more than foresight, his father had used to say. Legolas could understand the wisdom of it, now; you could not go forward until you understood the past to improve upon it. He pulled Kili in to place a kiss upon Kili’s forehead. “I…had feared that you were angry with me,” he admitted quietly. “When I did not see the arrow back in your quiver.” 

Kili reached behind to the very quiver Legolas had spoken of and pulled out the long missed arrow. “I had a new head put on it,” he said. “I wanted it to be a surprise. Our names, together; never to be taken or misused again.” He offered the arrow to Legolas, and his eyes immediately spotted their names written along the point. It must have taken a craftsman days to create such a thing of beauty. 

A hand rested on his leg. “I feel better now,” Kili said, sounding almost surprised. “I felt so terrified and sick and now…” 

Now it felt as if the world had righted itself at last. “I as well,” Legolas murmured. He handed the arrow back to Kili, and it was carefully put back into his quiver. Just as it should be. “I came to try and find comfort, to give myself a balance. But I didn’t find it until you came.” 

Kili’s face lit up with hope. “Truly?” 

“Truly,” Legolas said. Kili pulled him into a long embrace, and it felt as if the last of the sickness and guilt that Legolas had in his soul faded away. This would always be where he drew comfort from. This would _always_ be home: in Kili’s arms. 

“I’m-“ 

Kili’s words immediately turned into a squawk as the rains suddenly descended. From nearby, Legolas could hear the shout of surprise from Gimli and Tauriel’s soft huff of annoyance. He let out a laugh and it rang freely through the air. The brook seemed to be babbling nonstop as it ran swiftly with new water. 

“Come on!” Kili shouted, and he tugged Legolas beneath the sanctuary of nearby trees. The thick branches and leaves made a comfortable dry space, and Legolas held tightly to his husband as the rains came down.

“What were you going to say?” Legolas asked as Kili leaned his wet hair against him. 

Kili grinned, and it was the first true smile he’d seen from his husband in days. It was as if the sun had finally come out after a week of storms, and it felt like a blessing and a promise. “I was going to say, ‘I’m so happy that I married you.’” 

Despite the cool air and the colder drops of rain that tumbled down, Legolas felt warm. “And I, you,” he murmured. 

They would return to Erebor later, when the rains had stopped. It would be a brief storm, the breeze promised. Upon their return Legolas would take Kili down to the kitchens for a small feast of something, anything, and after finding a small corner away from everyone else, would take the time to simply speak and listen. He would just _be_ with Kili. They had been as hurt by the traitorous dwarves as Bilbo and Thorin had been, to an extent, and they both needed to heal. They had tried to do so separately, and they had failed. 

They needed one another. And they would take the time to be with one another. 

But for now, Legolas was content enough to spend the time in the rain with his husband, his comfort, his hope, and listen to the rain drops fall above them.


End file.
